A night at the Little Cabin

A photo from earlier this summer: The Little Cabin on the bluff above the Big River

The door faces the side of the mountain where the full moon is rising in the wake of a stray cloud laced and traced with the silver and gold light from behind.

I pass back through the doorway, smaller in size than is standard today. You can tell it is old. They say people were shorter back in the day. I am not tall by todays or yesterdays standards. The doorway fits me fine.

The cabin was built around 1940. I am intrigued by the past, by the history of the cabin, the stories built around these old log walls. Grateful of those from the past who provide us with what we have now, the shell around us built by my husbands grand dad, built by the hands of the family, dreams of the family, struggles of the family, then and now.

But now it is ours. A cornerstone of the cabin we will build it to be. A wall within a new and adequate structure, providing for me and my family tonight, or perhaps in the near future. A new beginning from an old start.

As we build our homes, our lives, we grow up; take a bit of the past with us. If it is strong and solid, we hold onto it, use it as the foundation upon which we build.

These walls are tired and old, in need of sanding, refinishing, blowing off of the dust of years and generations and conflicts and sorrows. We can freshen them up, brighten the wood once again, and rechink the cracks between the logs so they are tight, safe, warm. Tonight, I see the light of the moon shine through in places that the old chinking has cracked and fallen out from between the old logs. A reminder that we can take from our past what we choose to hold on to, repair what we need to, and walk away from what we want to as well. Every day is a new day.

For now, I sit in a chair by the cook stove, huddled close by the warmth while the wash water hisses on the old rusty surface. Perhaps a few mornings of frying bacon and sausage will bring a new shiny patina to its surface.

We dream, we plan, we figure out what we can do tomorrow and for many tomorrows to come, to make it all work out. To hold onto the bits of the past we choose to, and make the rest our own. Perhaps because of the past, or despite the past, we slowly build our future, our lives together, our tomorrows… today.

Responses

I hope there is a tomarrow for that is all that is left . Tressure the little cabin . All the years of trouble and strife it still stands .I for one have only the future to look forward to .They say time will heal al . they do now not have any idea what they are talking about .Seek comfort and pleasure with your family in the little cabin . when all is said and done family is all that holds us togeather .you are very lucky .Your family sounds like the one i wish i had . My family and my lost wifes family want nothing to do with me .Hold your boys close and tell them you love them if only with a smile
DON

By: DON BENTLEY on September 4, 2009 at 7:18 PM

Don, I hope you do look forward to the future, and I hope some wonderful adventures are in store for you. Be brave. Be open. Take a few risks and try… make a dream come true… and most important, don’t stop dreaming. I could share stories with you about a new friend I met recently in his late 80’s with more spunk and joy for life, living each day a new after his wife passed away… I wish you could meet him and be as inspired as I was. If I had half the guts and joy for life that he has! Don’t stop dreaming… dream big… life has such goodness, and so much of that goodness lies within you.